


Past the Breaking Point

by onekisstotakewithme



Series: Swamp(y) Snogs [7]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Hawkeye Pierce, Episode: s08e6 Period of Adjustment, First Kiss, M/M, Swamp(y) Kisses, hunnihawk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 22:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13668426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: “You know, Beej,” he says, absentmindedly gesturing to the bruise on his face. “You broke me, now you have to buy me.”It's the middle of the war, and they're just a couple of broken men far from home.Tag for Period of Adjustment.





	Past the Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



> as always ♥ (this is practically tradition now... hide the chickens)

“You know, Beej,” he says, absentmindedly gesturing to the bruise on his face. “You broke me, now you have to buy me.”

“If it hadn’t been me who did that, I’d hunt down who did and break his face,” Beej says, giving him a sad look. He resembles a kicked puppy, and Hawk almost feels guilty for bringing it up.

“Well you already broke mine, if you break yours, we’ll be a matching set.”

“I can think of worse things.” The guilt is written all over Beej’s features, and it spills over his shaking hands. “You should be hitting me. What kind of man punches out his best friend?” He’s sober, currently, but just as fractured as the still. Hawkeye still can’t look at it without feeling a bit more broken than he usually does.

The still shouldn’t matter to him, because it’s a _thing_ and things can be replaced, but it’s also the last remnant he has of Trapper. That still is the goodbye note he never got. “Beej…”

“Does it feel as bad as it looks?” _Things can be replaced, but people can’t, and where am I ever going to find someone like you, Beej?_

“No.”

Beej relaxes, so Hawk withholds the second half of the sentence, something about it actually being worse than it looks. “Geez, Hawk, I dunno what got into me… I just…”

The scene from Potter’s office is still fresh in Hawk’s mind, and the shoulder of his robe is still damp from BJ nuzzling into it, having completely gone to pieces in Hawk’s arms. “Hey, Beej. It’s okay. I had already resigned myself to the fact that I’ll never be beautiful.”

This brings a smile to BJ’s face, and he sits down beside Hawk, the cot creaking with the added stress, having not been made for two. He gently probes the wound, and winces right along with Hawkeye. “Jesus, Hawk, I could’ve done some real damage.”

“The only thing you damaged was the still… and your liver. Remind me, if I ever meet your family, to tell them how lucky they are to have someone willing to fight like crazy to get back to them. In this case, literally.”

“What do you mean _if_?” Beej asks, distracted, his eyes still fixed on Hawkeye’s face, and if Hawk wasn’t so tired, he’d make a joke about Beej checking him out. “Of course you’ll meet my family, Hawk. Every time Peggy writes, she tells me how much she wants to meet you! She already loves you!” He gives him a look that for once, Hawkeye doesn’t understand.

“More’s the pity.” He feels the start of a headache coming on, and he isn’t sure if it’s residual from BJ’s knuckle having a medical conference with his face, or if it’s simply the effects of getting maybe two hours of sleep. Either way, he’s not in the mood, and his eyes slide shut. “Loving me is a terrible idea.”

“Hawk, you okay? You’re white as a sheet!” He opens his eyes again to find Beej staring at him, wide-eyed and concerned.

“You look awful worried, Beej.” He closes his eyes again. “Y’know, there’s no guarantees I make it out of this war alive.”

“Aw come off it, Hawk, you’re not going to die from a blow to the face.”

“I’m not talking about that,” he mumbles. “Although with your fists, you never know.” He sags forward, the stress of the last twenty fours hours catching up to him, and it’s a reverse of what happened in Potter’s office. His head lands on BJ’s shoulder, and he’s warm through the pink shirt, and underneath the heady smell of real booze from Potter’s office, he smells like army soap and sunshine. “It’s a war, Beej. I might not make it home.” _The way Trapper did, and Henry didn’t, and Radar did, and you’re supposed to._

“Don’t say that, Hawk.”

“Though if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather go first. If it comes down to you or me, I mean. You’ve got your family… Peg and Erin. I’ve just got little old me, and I’m already down a liver, _and_ an eye. Maybe it’s just as good you broke the still… it’s killing me by degrees.” He chuckles at the thought. “Wouldn’t it just stick it to the army if I went and died of alcohol poisoning?”

“I’d rather just as much you didn’t go at all.”

“I’ll live on in song and story,” Hawk tells him.

“I’m serious, Hawk.”

“Me too, Beej.” He forces his eyelids open, and wishes he hadn’t, because the room is spinning. He yawns, and then grins up at his best friend, trying to hide how much the blow to the face hurt. “But if I die, you gotta tell my story. Immortalize me. Someone has to, and I’d rather just as much it be you.”

“Don’t go writing your will just yet,” Beej says, before smoothing down Hawk’s hair. The gesture is intimate, and Hawk snuggles further into his shoulder, both wishing he never has to, and dreading the moment where he has to let go. Beej’s other hand finds his, and squeezes it. “And don’t worry. I won’t let the world forget Benjamin Franklin Pierce. A character like you should live on, with all the crazy stunts you’ve pulled.”

Hawk giggles, won over by exhaustion. “Be sure to tell them how I was named after a president, an Indian and a stove.”

Beej grins down at him, returning Hawk’s own smile. “Should rest, Hawk.”

“Y’know, I would, but… I’ve got this pain in my head. I think it’s my brain trying to get out. It just realized there’s a war going on. Can you court-martial a brain for desertion?”

Beej laughs. “I’ll tuck you in.”

“If you do, does that mean I finally get to find out what happened to Androcles and the lion?” Hawk asks, grinning.

He’s rewarded with a genuine, hearty laugh from Beej, and it intoxicates him more than any martini. He may have the whole camp as a captive audience when it comes to his jokes, but there’s only one man in the audience he cares about. And that’s his Beej.

_He tells stories and I tell jokes and between the two of us, maybe we can keep the camp entertained enough to forget._

“Are you sure I can’t go get you some ice or something?” His hands are light on Hawk’s face.

It’s a surgeon’s hands, but a lover’s touch, and Hawk melts under his steady fingers.

“I’m fine, Beej.” It’s a stupid excuse, because the sight of his face is anything but fine. But this is how he operates; this place gives him nightmares, but he’s fine, it’s fine, everything is _fine._ He wants to pull away, but his willpower just isn’t up to it in this pre-dawn haze. And there’s no excuse for Beej to be touching him so gently, because he’s fully sober now, and if anyone knows that Hawkeye isn’t _fine_ , it’s Beej.

“You know, Hawk, I think I know just the right cure for that unsightly wound on your face.”

“A new face? An about face? A tale of two faces? Facing the music?”

“Hawk,” Beej cuts him off gently, but he’s grinning. “Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, Dr. Hunnicutt.”

BJ’s eyes light up, but he simply instructs his patient, “Stay still, so I can administer this treatment.”

“Go easy on me, Beej, it’s a little early to be playing doctor together.”

Beej sighs, but it’s affectionate and accompanied by an eye roll. Just watching it makes Hawk wince. And then he holds Hawk’s head steady, leans in and presses a kiss to the mark left during his rampage. Hawk’s eyes fill with tears, and it isn’t so much due to the pain as it is the tenderness of Beej’s mouth pressed against his cheek.

Beej moves away, and Hawk turns to him reflexively, seeking him out, so that they’re nose to nose. Beej looks worried, as if he’s just crossed a line. _That line has shifted more than the front lines of this war,_ Hawk thinks, watching him, _and yet this is a white flag I’ll gladly wave._ “There,” he whispers.

Hawk smiles. “Where did you learn _that_ nifty piece of medicine?”

“First day of med school,” Beej tells him.

“Must have missed that day,” Hawk mumbles, his eyes flickering to Beej’s lips, wondering what they’d feel like pressed against his mouth. “Think you missed a bleeder though, doctor. Might have to go back in.”

“Well, I’ll have to do something about that, won’t I? After all, I made an oath.” BJ grins.

“Several of them.” _Do no harm,_ Hawk thinks, looking at Beej. _Do no harm, you idiot. Back off while your other oath is intact. Don’t let me ruin your life for you. I’ve ruined enough, including my own, and I don’t need you to be a casualty too._

Beej blinks, understands, and nods. They sit there, paralyzed, breathing each other in, and Hawk is sure he hasn’t really been this close to another human being for the whole war, and they’re on the edge of something dangerous. He isn’t entirely sure he’ll be able to step back from the ledge, because he can still feel the ghost of BJ’s lips on his cheek and has the dangerous intention of flinging himself into the unknown. _It’s worth it,_ Hawk thinks. _If the unknown is you._

And whatever Beej sees in his face, he clearly understands, because he still leans in, hands light as they cup Hawkeye’s face, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. Hawk is grateful to be sitting on his cot, which is a first, because he’s fairly certain that if had been standing, he’d now be down for the count.

Part of him wants to object, to pull away, because this is his best friend with a wife back home, but Beej is fully sober and aware of what he’s doing (and it helps that he’s good at it). Clearly this means _something_ to Beej _,_ and Hawk just wants to know if it’s that same _something_ he feels. Because if Beej were to look now, he’d see Hawkeye’s infatuation written all over his face, the idiotic pining of the camp Casanova for his best friend, who has been – until now – utterly unattainable.

And then something clicks. _She already loves you,_ Beej had said. And Hawkeye hadn’t been able to place the look Beej had given him, but it all falls into place. _She already loves you, because I do._

“Beej,” he says, reluctantly pulling away, and he freezes as BJ absentmindedly licks his lips. “Wait.”

“Do you want me to stop, Hawkeye?” BJ is watching him, and Hawk can feel the fear radiating from him, the worry that whatever feelings he has for Hawkeye are unreciprocated.

“No, I don’t want you to stop, and that’s what scares me, Beej. I never want you to stop. I’d very much like the war to go on without us, if it means that you don’t ever stop.”

A smile creeps across BJ’s face. “You’re wrong, you know,” he says conversationally. “You don’t have just yourself. You’ve got me.”

“I do,” Hawkeye agrees. “And it’s what I want.”

“Good.” BJ sighs in relief, leaning in, his forehead against Hawkeye’s. Their eyes meet, and Hawkeye suddenly sees the future he could have. His hand finds BJ’s in the near-darkness and squeezes it once, twice, and it’s its own kind of code.

“I do hope you realize this means you’re stuck with me,” he tells him, squeezing his hand again. _I love you too, Beej._

“Please,” Beej says with a grin. “Like I could ever shake you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I'll whip something up that's a little more fluffy for Valentine's Day tomorrow, but if not, enjoy a bittersweet swamp rat kiss.   
> (And feel free to laugh at my references to other episodes, God knows I did)


End file.
